


Sweetness and Kindness

by softestpunk



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Post-Canon, Post-The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, especially my two beautiful bisexuals who deserve much better, look if Geralt gets to retire happily ever after so does everyone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: After seeing Geralt settled in his vineyard, Eskel makes a trip to Kovir where he's definitely, absolutely not looking for Lambert (he is) and it's definitely not because he's lonely (he is). First, though, he runs into an old friend.Triss hasn't gotten any less forward since the last time they met, but now her sights are set on a different witcher altogether.And maybe, between the two of them, they can live happily ever after, too.





	Sweetness and Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> It's just very important to me that both Triss and Eskel live happy little lives and honestly Triss would enjoy the hell out of Eskel and Eskel deserves to have someone to love him. This is possibly dumb. I don't care.

Unlike Lan Exeter with its extensive canals that made Eskel nauseous just _looking_ at them, Pont Vanis turned out to be a more or less normal city. He was glad he’d left it until the summer to venture out here, bidding Geralt goodbye in Toussaint once they’d both determined the winter elsewhere had ended--mostly by looking at distant mountains and seeing how much the snow had receded.

It had snowed all of twice in Toussaint, and Eskel thought it’d been overly generous to call it _snow_. If he hadn’t been watching it happen, he never would have known about it.

With the North largely under Emhyr’s thumb, pickings for witchers had gotten slim. Kovir was one of the last places left where there was a decent living to be made, and unlike Geralt, Eskel didn’t have a retirement plan.

Geralt had more or less said he could just stay forever if he wanted, but Geralt had also gotten the monster population in Toussaint down to more or less nothing, so there was nothing for him to _do_.

He could always go back if he decided it was time to hang up his swords. He was sure of that.

So. Pont Vanis it was, for now at least.

Like all good witchers, Eskel walked in a more-or-less straight line directly to the first tavern he spotted, not sure yet what he was looking for, exactly. He’d need a day or two to get the lay of the land, probably, and then he could find something worth his time.

The inside of the tavern was very much like the inside of every other big city tavern he’d ever been in, except for one minor detail.

Triss Merigold was sitting at the bar, and a young… alchemist, maybe?... was making the incredible mistake of trying to flirt with her.

The kid was barely old enough to grow a beard and he was trying his hand with _Triss Merigold_.

He was lucky he wasn’t already a pile of ash.

Eskel smiled at the thought. A friendly face was exactly what he could use right now, and Triss liked him. He was pretty sure.

He approached the… _kid_ , and there was really no other word for it when Eskel was planning on celebrating his hundredth birthday this year… and tapped him gently on the shoulder without even drawing Triss’ attention at first.

She looked over when he cleared his throat, which was also what got the alchemist’s attention.

“‘Scuse me,” Eskel said. “But that’s my seat.”

Triss raised an eyebrow. The alchemist _also_ raised an eyebrow, and opened his mouth to argue.

So he was either very brave or incredibly stupid, which in this particular case amounted to the same thing.

“There’s plenty of other places to sit,” he said.

“Right.” Eskel nodded, straightening his shoulders and making sure his swords shifted against each other, drawing attention to them. “So go pick one.”

Apparently, some spark of intelligent thought had just lit up the alchemist’s brain, because now he looked worried. He took a long moment to look Eskel up and down, lingering uncomfortably on the scar on his face, and then, finally, nodded.

It took him about three seconds to disappear into the crowd so thoroughly that even Eskel had a hard time tracking him after. Not that he was trying all that hard.

“Mind if I sit here?” Eskel asked Triss, nodding to the now-vacant stool.

Triss shrugged, but there was laughter dancing in her eyes. “Be my guest. Thanks for the valiant rescue.”

Eskel sat down, snorting. “I was rescuing _him_ ,” he said. “Five more minutes and that temper of yours…”

Triss laughed, and it was a pretty sound that wrapped itself around Eskel’s chest like a warm blanket. Yeah, it _was_ nice to see a familiar face. At his age, Eskel wanted to be surrounded by friends more or less constantly. He’d lost enough of them to want to cling to the ones he had.

“And you’re not afraid of my temper?” Triss asked, but she was smiling, and she was as beautiful as ever.

Eskel shrugged. “I know how to shield myself.”

Triss hummed, apparently satisfied with that answer. “Surprised to see you all the way out here. If you’re looking for Lambert…”

“Maybe,” Eskel said. He’d known Lambert was somewhere in Kovir, and he hadn’t discounted the possibility of checking in on him.

… okay, he was here mostly because he knew Lambert was here, and seeing Geralt had reminded him that his family had shrunk down to three members, and even if Lambert _was_ his bratty little brother, he was still…

He was still _Eskel’s_ , and none of them had a whole lot of people left.

“Well, he’s still following Keira around like a good little puppy,” Triss said. “She’s even teaching him manners. He called me _Triss_ last week.”

Eskel chuckled at that. “Wow. Guess you can teach an old wolf new tricks.”

“You can definitely zap them until they behave.” Triss shrugged.

“Ah, so _that’s_ what the thing with sorceresses and witchers is. We can handle being knocked around a little,” Eskel said.

“That’s not it,” Triss said. “Wanna know the real reason?”

Eskel blinked. He’d been _kidding_ , but maybe there… was a reason sorceresses had flocked around them? Not _him_ , but Geralt and Lambert both had a sorceress problem, and it wasn’t as though they were seeking them out.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, waving at the innkeep to order Triss and himself a drink, passing a handful of coins across the bar.

Triss nodded her thanks and drained what was left of the drink she’d been most of the way through.

“You tingle,” she said. “When we touch you. Because of the particular kind of magic the mutations gives you.”

Eskel’s mouth fell open.

 _That_ was it? That was the big secret?

Well. At least it made a kind of sense. And if they were touching in more, uh, intimate places…

He stopped that thought in his tracks, but it sure as hell explained a lot.

“I get it now. So Geralt has all those extra mutations, and I guess… he tingles more?” Eskel asked.

Triss made a face, like she was debating something, and then pretended to be interested in a scratch on the bar. “Actually,” she began after a moment. “Of all the witchers I’ve touched--and I try not to make a habit, so take this with a grain of salt--but, uh… your magic is the strongest.”

Eskel blinked.

He _sort of_ knew that, distantly, because he’d always been better at signs than his peers--definitely than Geralt, whose command of them was kind of basic even for all his extras. But he would never have made that connection on his own.

“Huh,” he said, unsure what else there _was_ to say. “What about Lambert?” he asked, figuring Keira wouldn’t have gone for second best.

“About the same as Geralt,” Triss said, and then smiled wryly. “I guess Keira never touched you, or she probably would have whisked _you_ away instead.”

Eskel shuddered at the thought. Triss laughed.

“Not your type?” she asked, her eyes glittering again.

She was beautiful. Eskel didn’t understand why Geralt wasn’t out here, begging her for a second chance. He got why he wasn’t begging _Yennefer_ , but Triss? Triss was… nice.

Gods, there was that unfortunate crush all over again. The one that had first popped up unexpectedly when Ciri was still a kid, and Triss had been yelling at them for being awful parents, and something in Eskel had just… shifted. Just a little.

He’d pushed it aside, told himself firmly that Geralt saw her first and that she wouldn’t be interested anyway, but…

Well, there it was.

“She’s… pretty, I guess? I don’t _not_ like her, but…”

“But you’re glad it’s Lambert and not you,” Triss said perceptively, smiling a tiny, conspiratorial smile. “Believe me, I’m glad it’s Lambert and not me, too. Keira scares me a little.”

“Yen scares me more,” Eskel said.

“And I don’t?” Triss asked.

Eskel shook his head. “No. I mean, I know I teased you about your temper a minute ago, but… you always seemed a little more level-headed. Little more forgiving.”

“A _little_?”

Eskel’s eyes widened. “A lot?” he tried.

Triss laughed again. “I’m joking,” she said. “I’m _joking_ , Eskel. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna fry the only tolerable witcher left in the world.”

Eskel snorted. “Geralt’s okay.”

Triss wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, he’s okay. But you’re _here_ ,” she said, and suddenly her tone seemed dangerous.

Not as though she was going to hurt Eskel. More or less the opposite.

Despite himself, Eskel shifted his weight as the faintest stirrings of arousal heated his gut. This was a terrible idea, but…

Triss had just said, more or less, that she had a thing for witchers, and he was the only available witcher for a long, _long_ way.

“Yeah,” Eskel said, fighting to stop his voice from sounding _too_ strained. “Yeah, guess I am.”

“I also guess you don’t have anywhere to stay yet,” Triss said.

“Uh, no,” Eskel agreed. “No, just got into town half an hour ago.”

Triss nodded. “Up to you, obviously, but… you could stay with me. I’ve got a house here.”

Eskel swallowed.

Shit.

Well…

If Geralt and Lambert could both do it, why shouldn’t he? Triss was pretty, and she was kind, and wise, and she didn’t let her power turn her into a distant, icy nightmare like a lot of sorceresses did. Eskel _liked_ her.

He hadn’t gotten laid without paying for it in a really long time.

What did he have to lose?

“Sure,” he said, before he could change his mind. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

Triss’ house had a guest room.

Eskel didn’t actually get to see it.

Triss had turned out not to be even a _little_ shy about what she wanted, shoving him up against the door as soon as they’d gotten inside, kissing him hard and demanding, pulling his armour off like she was offended he was even wearing it.

And Eskel was _shocked_ to learn that she had scars, too, and that was maybe the moment where he fell a little in love with her, even as she was shoving him onto the bed roughly and not giving him any chance to object.

Not that he was _about_ to object.

Triss didn’t try to avoid looking at his face. Triss laughed delightedly, and kissed him a lot, and Eskel’s heart felt full to bursting, because it was so nice to be _wanted_.

Even if she only wanted him because his touch made her tingle and he wasn’t Lambert.

He experimented eagerly, touching her everywhere he could think of, working on pushing more magic into the tips of his fingers, making half a sign and then letting it fizzle out on her skin, or inside her, and it was fine that she seemed to like his fingers better than his cock, because by the third time he’d made her come he would have done anything for her anyway.

He hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Eskel reached out to play with Triss’ hair when she was exhausted, more than satisfied himself but still wanting to _touch_ , to hold this incredible feeling in hands and never let it go.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and the tiny, almost _shy_ smile Triss gave him in response went straight to his heart, where he tucked it away for safekeeping.

“You're sweet,” Triss said, and it was probably the first time Eskel had ever heard that in his life.

He _could_ have been sweet, though. For a woman like Triss Merigold, he could have been a lot of things.

Crap. This was how Lambert had ended up as a pet witcher.

“Thanks, I think,” he said, instead of anything else.

There were a thousand other things he wanted to say, but none of them were good ideas. Not now, anyway.

“It was a compliment,” Triss confirmed. “Sweet’s in short supply. Men are mostly awful.”

Eskel chuckled at that. “Feel free to fireball me if I piss you off,” he said.

He planned on _not_ pissing her off.

“I'll keep the option in mind,” she agreed, that wonderful sparkle of laughter lighting up her eyes again. “How long are you planning on being in town?”

“Dunno,” Eskel said with a shrug. He hadn't made plans.

Although, he was currently planning to stick around at least a little while, if this was on offer again.

“Well, there is actually a guest room,” Triss said. “You're welcome to it, for as long as you're staying. It’d be nice to have you around.”

“I’d like that,” Eskel said, and look: he knew he was currently fulfilling the role of _large sex toy_ , but no one else wanted him for that, anyway, and honestly, he felt like the luckiest man in the world right now.

Triss smiled at him again, and he stored _that_ smile away, too, in case he needed it later.

***

Eskel wasn't sure when drowners got so damned _smart_ , but he wasn't used to them knowing how to kite or flank him, and these ones _did_ , and as a result he was soaking, and bleeding, and _tired_.

But also two hundred crowns richer, once he turned in the heads. It was carrying them that was the real trick, but he tied a discarded fishing net into a sack and slung the whole thing over his shoulder, ignoring the smell.

This wasn't slaying dragons or saving the world, but it was good, honest witcher work, and it’d save at least a couple of fishermen or kids from getting eaten, and it felt _good_.

Even the burn in Eskel’s muscles as he walked back to town felt good. After a winter of taking it a little _too_ easy in the sun, it was nice to remind himself what he’d been made for.

He bought Triss flowers on the way back, because he was grateful to have somewhere to stay, and also apparently an idiot.

But kindness, like sweetness, was in short supply, and he wasn't about to let her think he was taking her kindness for granted.

Eskel had spent his whole life trying not to be soft-hearted, since it got him into trouble more often than not, but he’d never been all that successful. Triss, though, deserved a little soft-heartedness, and she probably wouldn't throw it back in his face, either.

Triss knocked on his door when she got home, while Eskel was still cleaning some of his wounds from earlier.

“Come in,” he said.

“There are flowers on the kitchen-” Triss began, cutting herself off when she saw what was going on.

“Are you okay?” she asked instead, worry in her voice, and _damn_ , that was nice. Not that Eskel wanted her to worry about him, but it was nice that she cared.

“I'll be fine,” he said. “The flowers are for you. From me,” he added nervously.

Triss sighed a soft sigh that told Eskel he’d done the right thing. “You didn't have to,” she said.

“I wanted to,” he murmured, gritting his teeth as he pulled a sliver of drowner claw out of the cut on his thigh.

That was the real reason. He’d just wanted to do a nice thing for Triss, because he liked her, and she’d treated him like…

Like he was worth something.

Even if it _was_ just because she got off on having witchers touch her. Eskel couldn't really bring himself to mind that.

“Let me bandage that for you?” she asked.

Eskel nodded, happy to have the help. It was hard to get a bandage tight enough by himself.

Triss’ touch was light and gentle, so much so that he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it, almost drifting off as she tucked the ends in.

“There,” Triss patted his thigh lightly. “Practically good as new.”

Eskel chuckled. “Probably won't scar,” he said. “It wasn't that deep.”

Triss shrugged. “Doesn't matter if it does, as long as you survive.”

Eskel got the feeling that was wisdom Triss had taken a while to come around to.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you're right.”

Triss took his hand, and for just a second, Eskel felt the same tingle Triss got from him. Or at least, that was what he was _telling_ himself, anyway.

“Come eat,” she said, patting his knee as she let go of his hand. “Probably get dressed first if you don’t want Merele to see you naked.”

“Will she mind?” Eskel asked, joking.

“He,” Triss corrected.

“Will _he_ mind?”

“He’s eighty years old,” Triss said.

Eskel chuckled. “Right, right, wouldn’t want me cradle-robbing,” he said, grinning.

He smiled a lot around Triss. So much that even _he’d_ noticed it.

Triss rolled her eyes. “Witchers really are all the same, huh?”

“Ooh, harsh,” Eskel said, standing up to retrieve his underwear.

Triss hovered by the door, not moving just yet.

“I’m okay to get dressed by myself,” Eskel said, unsure if that was why she was still hanging around.

“I know, I’m just enjoying the show,” she teased.

Eskel blushed to the tips of his ears. He scoffed to hide his embarrassment. “Sorceresses really are all the same, huh?”

“Playing with fire, Eskel,” she said, but there was laughter in her voice. He liked it when Triss laughed. He wanted to make Triss laugh more often. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” she said, finally slipping out of the room.

He tied the laces of his trousers and followed her, which he could almost _feel_ becoming a habit.

***

Merele turned out to be thrilled that Miss Merigold had finally found herself a nice young man, and insisted that she didn’t need to be ashamed of finding happiness wherever she could.

Which was strange, because Eskel had two decades on the guy and Triss was at _least_ twice his age.

Eskel had never asked, but no one who knew her ever described Triss as _young,_ which, by mage standards, made her well over a hundred. The fact that she looked like she was barely out of her twenties was a choice she’d made.

Merele left muttering to himself about young love, and Eskel managed to stop himself from bursting into laughter until after he heard the front door shut.

As it turned out, his function in Triss’ life was to cook for her--apparently, he had a solid business feeding mages who couldn’t be bothered or didn’t know how to feed themselves.

“I can cook, you know,” Eskel said. “Wouldn’t be a problem.”

Triss looked at him suspiciously.

“What? I _can_ , and I’m not even half bad at it. Some of us didn’t grow up in a fancy castle having all our needs attended to.”

“You _did_ grow up in a fancy castle,” Triss pointed out.

“Yeah, but we cooked for ourselves.” Eskel shrugged. “Or took turns, anyway. Theoretically because we might have been spending extended periods of time in the wilderness and you can’t live on trail rations forever. Not without _wanting_ to die, anyway.”

“I _can_ cook,” Triss defended. “Kind of.”

Eskel chuckled. “Uh huh,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have to,” she said. “I work, and I’m providing work to the community. And _you_ work, so you shouldn’t have to, either.”

“Well… offer’s open, anyway. Might surprise you.”

“You’ve already surprised me a lot,” Triss admitted, glancing over at the flowers Eskel had left her. “I’ll risk it if you _want_ to, but no obligation. You’re meant to be my guest.”

“You sound like Geralt,” Eskel said. “I just went through a whole winter of this with him.”

“How is he?” Triss asked, and there was maybe a little _too_ much concern in that question for a woman who was over him, but Eskel decided to ignore that.

He wasn’t under any illusions that he was anything other than a substitute. But he was warm, and comfortable, and Triss had apparently decided it was her job to _feed_ him, too, so he was on a good thing, here.

No point in getting jealous about it. He’d shared too much with Geralt to care that he was borrowing the space reserved for him in Triss’ heart.

“He seemed happy,” Eskel said honestly. “Toussaint is a nice place. Warm. Peaceful. I guess he’s retired, now. Semi-retired, at least.”

“What about…” Triss began, gesturing vaguely. “Does he have… anyone?”

“I think he’s screwing someone who I think is a vampire,” Eskel said honestly. That was the conclusion he’d come to, anyway.

“Wow.” Triss looked up, eyes wide. “Is she pretty?”

“He,” Eskel said.

Triss’ eyes looked like they were in danger of popping out of her head, her mouth hanging open.

“This is news to you,” Eskel said perceptively.

Triss nodded.

“Right, of course. Oops?” He paused to wet his lips. “And this is where I should mention that I’ve fucked Geralt too, huh?”

Triss blinked at him. “I…” she began. “Guess I should have… worked that one out? You grew up together with no women around.”

“Got it in one,” Eskel said.

“And wintered together with no women around,” she added.

“Yep,” Eskel agreed.

“Wow.”

As much as he might have liked to, Eskel couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

“Well…” Triss sighed. “Guess I don’t need to _tell_ you you’re better in bed than he is.”

A little wave of happiness washed over Eskel at hearing that. “Actually, that’s kind of a surprise. I never really thought about it.”

“It’s true,” Triss said with absolute certainty.

Eskel tucked _that_ away, too, and at this rate he’d have stored up all the joy he needed for the rest of his life in the space of a week.

“Yeah, well,” he said. “You’re a lot prettier than he is.”

***

Over the course of the next week, Eskel slept in the guest bed exactly once--and only because he’d come back in the middle of the day and Triss had been out.

He’d worked out a routine that worked surprisingly well for him. After Triss was done with him of a morning and they’d had breakfast, he headed out to deal with whatever minor monster problem seemed most urgent--drowners, nekkers, a grave hag, and a couple of wraiths.

Once he was done, he got paid, cleaned himself up, and went back to Triss’ house in time, usually, to make Triss dinner.

She’d been skeptical the first time, but that hadn’t lasted long. Eskel knew what he was doing. He liked to eat well, too.

It took Triss exactly eight days to make a joke about keeping Eskel forever, and by then, Eskel was ready to agree to it. Even though he knew he was more or less haunting the life Triss had wanted for herself with Geralt.

She hadn’t actually _called_ him Geralt yet, so it wasn’t so bad.

He ran into Lambert two days later, and the first words out of his mouth were _so I hear you’re fucking Triss Merigold_ , so obviously, this wasn’t any kind of secret.

Which was… strangely comforting. Eskel had actually _expected_ Triss to keep it a secret, to not want to… _admit_ to him, in public, but it was nice to know that apparently she really wasn’t ashamed.

The second words out of Lambert’s mouth were, “so are you just gonna change your name to Geralt to save having to correct her, or…?”

Eskel gave him a slap to the back of the head for it and kept heading for the noticeboard.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lambert said, jogging to catch up.

“She’s not like that,” Eskel defended, and for the first time he actually believed it himself

Triss had been good to him. And she’d never actually made him _feel_ like a replacement. That was all Eskel’s own insecurities talking.

“Okay then,” Lambert said. “What _is_ she like?”

“She’s nice.” Eskel shrugged. “Kind. Warm. Funny.”

“I meant in bed, but you've kinda gone and fallen in love with her, huh?”

Shit.

_Shit._

Had he?

He had. Dammit.

Eskel groaned aloud. Lambert patted him on the back even while he laughed himself sick at the thought.

“Come on, let’s take the day off,” he said, nudging Eskel away from the noticeboard and toward the tavern door instead.

Eskel couldn't think of a good reason not to until they were both five drinks in and he remembered why he didn't drink with other witchers.

“So what’s it like living with Keira?” Eskel asked eventually, curiosity and alcohol getting the better of him. He knew, just _knew_ he didn’t want to hear this, but he had to ask anyway.

“She’s so mean,” Lambert said. “ _So_ mean. But wanna know a secret?”

“Why not?” Eskel said, knowing, again, that he was going to regret this.

“Iloveher,” Lambert said, all as one word, and it took Eskel a moment to mentally translate.

“You love her,” he repeated, staring at Lambert for a few seconds, and then snorted. “Look at us. Couple of tame witchers.”

Lambert giggled, which seemed like a bad sign.

And then he showed Eskel a _Quen_ he could hold for, he claimed, up to twenty minutes now, because Keira liked it when he did that in bed, and Eskel filed that information away for later use.

He could manage a solid five minutes without trying too hard, but he’d never _needed_ it longer than that. With practice…

Gods, he really _was_ in love. He was planning on learning a whole new skill to make Triss happy. He was even _excited_ about it. Making Triss happy had, in the space of less than two weeks, become his primary goal in life.

The tavern filling up worked as a surer indication of the time than any clock could have, and Eskel finished his sixth drink in a couple of long draughts before standing.

“I have to get home before-” he started, and then paused.

 _Home_.

Lambert looked at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “ _Home_?” he asked.

Eskel swallowed. Witchers didn’t have homes.

Except, he guessed, when they did. And why shouldn’t Triss be his home?

“Yeah,” Eskel said, his confidence growing. “Yeah, home. I think. Or I’d _like_.”

To his surprise, Lambert didn’t start in on another round of giving him hell. “It’s nice, huh?” he said instead, and yeah, it _was_ nice.

Witchers didn’t have homes, except when they did. And like everyone else, they still _liked_ them.

And home didn’t have to be a physical place. Home could be a person. And Triss could be his home.

***

Eskel bought flowers again, as he did every three days or so, but these ones were all roses. He wanted to be clear this time.

He hummed as he worked on a relatively simple meal, the walk having sobered him up more than enough to be safe in the kitchen, and smiled every time he glanced over at the flowers in the middle of the table.

He was in love. He had a home.

What the hell else could he want?

Triss came in just as he was finishing up, with soot in her hair and smeared on her nose, and Eskel kissed her anyway, because if he hadn’t been sure before, he was so damned sure _now_.

He’d never kissed her first before, but if she was going to keep making that happy, needy sound in the back of her throat, he planned on kissing her first a lot more often.

He let Triss find the roses before he said anything, going back to putting the final touches on dinner.

Triss hugged him from behind, fitting her small frame against his much larger one, and stood on the tips of her toes to hook her chin over his shoulder.

“Ran into Lambert today,” Eskel began, unsure how to frame what he wanted to say. “He knew. About us.”

“I haven't been keeping it a secret,” Triss said. She really, _really_ didn't seem ashamed.

The way Lambert told it, she’d been _bragging_. Sorceresses knew what it was like to have a witcher, apparently, and they were actually _jealous_ that Triss had finally managed to nab one.

Even if it was Eskel.

“That's not a problem, right?” she asked.

“Not a problem,” Eskel agreed. “I'm just surprised.”

Triss hummed softly, kissing his cheek. She never avoided his scars, and he thought that was maybe because he didn't avoid hers, either.

“Don't be. Be thankful I'm not dressing you up and showing you off.”

“You can if you want,” Eskel said, not because he enjoyed either of those things, but because he wanted Triss to be happy.

Triss hummed again. “Maybe for a special occasion sometime,” she said.

“Lambert says I'm in love with you,” Eskel blurted out, and maybe that wasn't quite the way he should have said it, but at least he’d managed to get the words out now.

“Are you?” Triss asked, and for once she sounded unsure.

“Yeah,” Eskel responded. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure I am.”

Triss let go of him, and for a moment his heart leapt into his mouth--she didn't want that, it was too much, he’d just made an idiot of himself and he was about to lose the best thing he’d ever had as soon as he’d gotten it because he was so goddamn _stupid_.

The feeling lasted until she turned him around, put both of her hands on his face, and kissed him. There was nothing chaste about it, no subtlety at all. It was all tongue and teeth and need, and Eskel had _never_ been kissed like this by a woman, but he _liked_ it all the same.

“So that’s okay?” Eskel asked, and dammit, he was nervous all over again.

“It’s okay,” Triss said a moment later. “I’m starting to think I feel the same way.”

Eskel let go of a breath he hadn’t intended to hold, his heart swelling so much it _hurt_ , but damn, _this_ was what he’d been looking for.

This was quiet, and comfortable, and wonderful. It was the peace he’d been craving for as long as he could remember.

“That’d be okay,” Eskel said. “With me, I mean.”

“Well, as long as I’ve got your _permission_.” Triss smirked at him. “I think we can handle this.”

“Yeah,” Eskel agreed. “Yeah, I think we can.”

 


End file.
